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Wednesday, 16 September 2015

The pliant preachers.

There has always been, and will forever be, a very deeply rooted and etched belief in my mind, which should probably never wither. It's worthwhile to note this maybe the only belief I might hold on till the very end. It is a belief that in all its essence embodies all that I've seen and I've witnessed. Faces throughout the day, make up my day. Bumping into the headlights of panoply of these faces, I've seen that there is much more to life than meets the eye. We all have a deeply hidden, deeply engendered alter ego of sorts. It's pretty similar to what appears on the outside and even to ourselves. And yet there lies a tremendous doppleganger, who may be the exact opposite of what we want everyone to perceive ourselves to be. Because if you went on to say what you really felt, you'd find your neck on the guillotine the very next moment. And yet the inner being stays there, waiting for its turn, either to see it finally arrive, or to see itself expunged at the end of one's time. Such, dear readers, is the life of a pliant preacher.

Revolutions are always marked by feelings distinct to what was extant prior to the revolutions. Rebellions spring out of sustained momentum, and yet if successful, they may usurp all that once assumed institutional providence. Such is the power of the deep inveterate conscience inside you. You may or may not believe, but while you expose your external self to be twisted and turned, your inner self is so staunch and so stubborn, even the most revered idol of your mind shall not be able to change your position on it. You spend your whole life haranguing and contempting many a thing. You might actually consider it an obligation to markedly express yourself and expatiate your opinion on many issues. But irrespective of whether you are an introvert or an extrovert, a bonhomie or an aloof laconic lost in soliloquy, you silently store a vermin of humongous proportions inside you. And then you simply wait for the scuttling elements to wane away.

Consider this. How is it possible for radicalism to pervade so early in what is otherwise a set sophisticated society? By the late 1930's, only a minuscule percentage of Nazis were of the ardent type, the type that shall go an and spread deluge and mayhem at the whims of their Fuhrer. And yet by the time Hitler's reign was at its prime, either by conation or by compulsion, most of the people acceded. In fact many records aver that many from the bourgeoisie, actually enjoyed the sight of brutal torture and tribulation meted out to the prisoners. So, how did the conscience of a progressive sect of people suddenly contort so much that they suddenly found the deleterious to be delectable? Moreover, coincidentally people did this while knowing their genocidal extravaganza was soon going to make them face the whole world's wrath. Well, it was the beast hidden beneath them, deep enough for anyone to notice when they acted sane, and yet powerful enough to let all hell break loose when it finally manifested.

We all are no different today. Consider all the cultural establishments or national and international legal bodies that enforce all laws to curb all possible maladies. We still have just about as much collective dismay and acrimony as we had then. We still have rendered vengeance in the minds of otherwise innocuous beings, ready to turn it into a devastating reality at the drop of a hat. People want to do many things, and with multiple authorities, principles and the collective social obligation, their real self remains timorous. In essence, we are mammals with the core mammalian instinct still being the same. You can't win a war without defeating someone else. And maybe a wrestler feels the same way after pinning his opponent down, as a Gladiator felt centuries ago when he would splay his enemy and bifurcate him into two parts, bathing in a shower of rubicund hot blood, like none else. We're all animals and we're all beasts. We're suave chivalrous males, with a subversive intent lying somewhere within, with our wrath impending upon someone or something. And then there are resplendent petite females, who on their day, might bring their own unflinching vendetta to the table and might knock out many an Empire on their own.

We are preachers of the law of the land, and of what is considered acceptable. There are norms, tacit and writ, guiding us in becoming a replete society. But in reality, we find much more comfort and tranquil in individualism and nihilism. We are fanatics, waiting for the doors to perdition, and that's why it is so easy to proselytize us into action. Wave based politics, massive revolutions and complete turnarounds are always welcome as being agents of change. But we soon find the hidden truth, seeing the artifice hidden in the spiel of our master manipulators. But we remain happy because we have another shot at revolution, which once again fades in the tyranny of another demagogue. But we enjoy as long as we think we are the change. We want something to go more eagerly than we want something new to replace it. We take more pride in someone's relegation, than we take in someone's anointment. We're lovers of destruction and detriment from inside, and yet we adulate and eulogize progress from the outside. We are the pliant preachers, acting at the behest of what the society terms as good, till the day there's nothing good left to follow, silently waiting in our own mental abode, and looking forward to acquiescing to the internal master - the animal reeling under all the sweetness outside!